


Regret

by Zoadgo



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Just angst, alternate scene in 3x03, apologies that aren't really apologies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 08:00:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5959836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoadgo/pseuds/Zoadgo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being locked up in the tower gives Clarke plenty of time to think about things, and even more to feed her resentment towards Lexa. Talking to the woman doesn't help matters at all, but at least it gives her more to think about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regret

Word spreads quickly in Polis, it seems, even to prisoners in luxurious rooms with guards on the door at all times. Servants of the Coalition, warriors trained to do menial tasks as well as guard the secrets within the tower, talk to each other much of the time when performing their duties. They gossip in Trigedasleng as they set out food and clean, especially when they assume those around them don’t know the language. Obviously, they assume that of Clarke, and she’s not about to correct them.

Most days, as she sits on her bed and pretends to ignore the burly men and equally musclebound women set to care for her quarters, Clarke hears nothing of importance. She knows a great deal about merchants down below who she’s never seen, knows of the ins and outs of various guards relationships and their standing within the warrior hierarchy. The information could help her, potentially, if she knew who any of the people mentioned were. Instead, Clarke just gets the latest juicy details of who Rashak has slept with, and how badly Aras lost his last fight.

But Clarke keeps listening, and eventually she hears something about the Coalition. About her least favourite member of it, too. Lexa’s name is never spoken, even in whispers, but the story of a body falling from the tower is all the servants in Clarke’s quarters can talk of when they bring her lunch one day. They don’t take long to set Clarke’s food out for her, but in that time, Clarke learns that ‘Heda’ took offence to the Azgeda delegate’s words, and kicked him from the tower. She also learns that no one is in the least surprised by this, which leads Clarke to vaguely wonder how frequently Lexa attempts to teach people how to fly.

Clarke tries to imagine the repercussions of Lexa’s actions as she drinks the water provided for her and chews her way through what seems to be fire roasted venison. Were Lexa anyone else, Clarke would think them insane for killing one of the Ice Queen’s delegates. But Lexa is the Commander of the Coalition, more powerful in her youth than Queen Nia will ever be. She likely can do anything she wants without too much fear. An army sits between her and the Azgeda, for her to command at her whim, sworn to die for their Heda.

But still, actions are never without consequence. Clarke wishes she knew why Lexa ha decided to kill him, what the delegate had said to incur her wrath. Obviously, word spreads quickly, and the reasoning behind Lexa’s actions could quite easily sway the public opinion. Lexa is a leader chosen by spiritual selection, but if she’s seen to be weak or ruthless beyond reason, people might be more receptive to the idea of allowing Lexa’s spirit to choose its successor. 

Clarke finishes her meal, what would likely have been delicious at any other time, but simply tastes bland in the face of her imprisonment, and takes her thoughts to the window in her room. She could jump, if she wanted, and some days she has been tempted to take that path out. But no, that wouldn’t be fair to the memory of those she’s killed. Clarke wonders if Lexa even remembers how many she’s killed. Would she count the Azgeda delegate among them? The Mountain Men that Clarke had to kill without Lexa’s army behind her? How directly do the deaths have to come from your hands to be considered yours?

The door behind Clarke opens loudly, locks falling open with heavy thuds as the guards on it free them. Clarke stays staring out of the window, the long fall to the ground below seeming a world away. It doesn’t scare her, it doesn’t excite her. Nothing seems to touch her these days, save for anger. She tells herself it’s better that way, and some days Clarke can even believe that.

Footsteps walk into the room, aggravatingly familiar in their cadence and weight. Soft, but with purpose, causing decoration and weapons to shift and jingle with each step. Clarke can wait for the person to say what they came to say, but today Clarke has questions, and she decides knowing the reason behind Lexa’s actions is worth engaging in a conversation with the woman herself.

“You killed a man today,” Clarke says without turning around. 

“He questioned me,” Lexa’s voice is steady and cool, as it ever is when talking about death. One step removed from emotions, one step removed from this world. Clarke can understand it now, the separation between Heda and Lexa ringing true to that which Clarke herself set up between Wanheda and Clarke. However, even as Clarke understands Lexa, she grows to hate her even more. Familiarity seems to breed nothing but dissent within Clarke these days, and she itches to leave, to move, to run again.

“Should I take that as a warning?” Clarke turns, and she can’t find it in her to be afraid of Lexa as she maybe should be. Not that she trusts the Heda not to kill her, but it’s like looking out the window and thinking about jumping. There’s that void, the break between Clarke and Wanheda, and it doesn’t care about dying. It doesn’t care about anything.

“No.” Lexa turns from Clarke, walking to the wall as if idly inspecting the decorations hung there. “You earned the right to question me, long ago.”

“Is it because of guilt, then? If you’re cutting me slack because you left me at the Mountain, don’t bother. I don’t need your pity or your leniency,”

Lexa shakes her head, still not looking at Clarke, “The Mountain was regrettable, yes. But guilt earns you nothing with me. You proved yourself to me in the days beforehand, in your planning. You earned the right to share words and thoughts with me when you killed your lover for the sake of peace.”

“Don’t you dare mention Finn, you haven’t earned that right.” The mockery of Lexa’s words rolls off Clarke’s tongue, and Lexa turns to face her with arms crossed over her chest, looking the world as if she’s a parent judging a petulant child.

“Then again, perhaps Wanheda is not as wise as Clarke was. Your emotions seem to cloud your judgement more strongly now than they ever did before. You cling too strongly to the past.”

Clarke barks out a bitter laugh, a sound that burns her throat in its wake, “Of course. _I’m_ the one blinded by emotion here. Not you, who keeps me around even though you know I will never feel the same way about you again. Do your people know that I’m nothing more than a trophy to you, that you won’t kill me and claim my power because you think you love me?”

Lexa twitches, almost a hint at a wince that’s quickly suppressed, before setting her jaw and crossing the distance between them in a few brisk strides. Clarke stands her ground, not intimidated in the slightest. The void is there, holding her steady, eating everything save for the burning anger that Clarke keeps clutched close to her heart.

“I will tell you as I have told my people. Wanheda is of more use to me alive, and Klark kom Skaikru is a valuable ally. You may not see it yet, Clarke, but there is more between us than the memories of emotions. We are leaders, if we want to be or not. You don’t have to like me to work with me for the future of our people.”

Clarke searches for the truth of it in Lexa’s eyes, tries to see if Lexa is really keeping her around for those reasons or because she still feels some twisted version of love for Clarke. Lexa doesn’t look away, surrenders to Clarke’s inquiring gaze, but Clarke sees nothing. All she can tell is that Lexa’s eyes are as green as they ever were, and look far too young for someone who has seen and caused so much death. Clarke wonders if she’ll ever be able to seem that innocent and sincere, if there will ever be anything other than death and hate in her gaze. Maybe that’s the difference between the Commander of Death and the Commander of the Blood. Perhaps, in the end, it’s a distinction without a difference.

“Do you regret killing him?” Clarke asks, needing to know how Lexa feels about the blood on her hands. Or in this case, on the streets of her city. Lexa’s brow furrows for a moment in confusion before she remembers what started this conversation.

“No,” Lexa’s voice is quiet, and without the steel of the Heda in it. Honest, Clarke would call her tone, if she ever thought Lexa were capable of being honest. “I only have three true regrets in my life.”

“Tell me,” Clarke commands. It’s not a desire to know Lexa better, she tells herself, the anger twisting it into a desire for knowledge of the Heda’s weaknesses. Lexa nods shortly, her gaze still painfully bare, and Clarke’s becomes aware of the fact that they’re far too close together. The void falters for a moment, allowing a trickle of discomfort to climb down Clarke’s spine before reestablishing itself.

“I regret not putting more guards on Costia, I regret my first battle as Commander when more of my people died than needed because of my foolishness.” Lexa steps back from Clarke and turns towards the door, and Clarke finds it far easier to breathe.

“The third regret?” Clarke calls as Lexa pauses at the door.

“The third regret is you.” Lexa doesn’t looks back to say it, and the doors fall heavily shut behind her. 

Clarke sits on her bed again, next to her food stained dishes from lunch, and tries to make sense of what that meant. Because Lexa’s tone was nothing like what Clarke would use were she to say she regrets having met Lexa. It was mournful, the same as when Lexa spoke of Costia. Clarke is still trying to figure out what Lexa meant when the servants come to clear her dishes away, and she’s completely forgotten that she never found out the real reason Lexa came to talk to her.

Perhaps this warrants another conversation with Lexa, and Clarke tells herself firmly that it is only for the sake of getting answers. She looks out her window that evening, and the drop to the ground seems farther than before. The void within Clarke shudders at the thought of it.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I wanted to write this, but I did, so here it is! I just like writing little scenes in the wake of the episodes sometimes, I suppose.
> 
> Eternal thanks to my lovely editor [coldsaturn](http://coldsaturn.tumblr.com) for editing it so quickly, she's the best!
> 
> Come chat with me [on tumblr](http://jonnmurphy.tumblr.com)! And as always, thank in advance for commenting/reading/leaving kudos <3


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